


Cookies for Christmas

by nonbinaryjamesbarnes (kittleimp)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sick Character, Sick Steve Rogers, They're really adorable, bucky to the rescue!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittleimp/pseuds/nonbinaryjamesbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Steve, what is it?" Bucky asked quickly, setting the soup on the nightstand and leaning in to comfort his sobbing friend.</p>
<p>"The cookies!" Steve rasped and then dropped his face back into his tear-soaked hands, shoulders shaking, as if that explained anything at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookies for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MapsWindsor (WeMightAswellBeStrangers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeMightAswellBeStrangers/gifts).



> She may have been the wonderful beta for it, but this fic was always intended to be a gift to [Soph](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WeMightAswellBeStrangers/pseuds/MapsWindsor), who is the queen of Christmas. Merry Christmas, tol! |||
> 
> It should be noted that Steve and Bucky are in some sort of a relationship, but they haven't labeled it. This fic refers to them as "friends" a few times and that's just one facet of their relationship.
> 
> This is based, just a tiny bit, on some tidbit I read that claimed that the tradition of leaving cookies for Santa started during the depression. I don't know how true that is, but that is the inspiration.

Steve had been working himself to the bone for weeks and Bucky could do nothing but watch. 

After his own daily shift at the docks, Bucky would return to the small apartment they shared to find Steve fast asleep, or sketching something for one of his rare illustration jobs. There was only enough time to eat a small dinner before Steve said farewell and rushed off to the evening shift he had at the diner down the road. They both knew that he wouldn't slink back into bed until the sun was peeking over the rooftops.

"I hate to say it, Buck, but we're lucky," Steve insisted when he first picked up the early morning shift in addition to his nightly one, even though it meant that he would spend almost twice as much time scrubbing dishes and sweeping floors.

They couldn't deny that poor Lucille's illness was a great thing for them. With the extra money, they managed to eat two solid meals a day without falling behind on the bills. Now there is even an envelope stashed away in the back of the cupboard for emergencies with fifty whole dollars inside. In that sense, the extra shift was an amazing opportunity for them. In every other sense, Bucky hated it with a passion.

On top of having Steve stolen daily from the bed they shared more often than not, leaving Bucky alone with the icy December drafts that flooded through their poorly heated apartment, Steve was starting to decline in ways that Bucky hadn't seen for a few blissful months. Bucky was often alerted to his housemate’s arrival by the sounds of coughing and sneezing. Even worse, Steve was constantly exhausted and passed out the second his head hit the pillow every night. As much as he wished he could deny it, Bucky knew Steve was getting sick again. Still, in typical Rogers fashion, he refused to pause his rigorous work schedule to tend to his health. Bucky was almost relieved when he finally came home to find Steve with a low fever that would keep him from work.

The first order of business was placing a cold, damp towel on Steve's forehead, and pulling away most of his heavy blankets. His shivering was miserable to watch, but Bucky knew that he was already far too hot. Once Steve was settled back onto a pile of pillows, glaring resentfully at his friend-turned-caretaker, Bucky headed to the kitchen to heat up some soup. Sarah Rogers was a brilliant cook, and while Bucky hadn’t picked up the skill with the same ease as Steve, he did know how to imitate this one recipe. He had prepared it at the start of the week, fully expecting Steve to be down for the count before Friday.

What he hadn’t expected was to find Steve crying when he returned to the bedroom.

"Steve, what is it?" he asked quickly, setting the soup on the nightstand and leaning in to comfort his sobbing friend.

"The cookies!" Steve rasped and then dropped his face back into his tear-soaked hands, shoulders shaking, as if that explained anything at all.

"Stevie, we'll deal with the cookies later," Bucky assured him, pretending for the moment that he wasn’t clueless as he pulled Steve's face from his hands and wiped at the snot dripping from his nose. "There will be plenty of time to figure that out after you're feeling better. Eat some soup, then we'll talk."

That seemed to do the trick, at least. Steve sniffled a few more times and allowed Bucky to spoon the soup into his mouth. It wasn't a large bowl; the last thing they needed was too much soup deciding it wasn't going to stay in Steve's stomach, so it wasn't long before the last bite of broth and meat was gone. Bucky was reluctant to bring up the reason for Steve's earlier episode at risk of causing another, but Steve wasn't willing to be patient.

"We're not going to be able to afford the ingredients for the cookies," Steve mumbled mournfully.

"What cookies?" Bucky asked, keeping his tone light and gentle, so as not to scare Steve back into another crying fit.

"Christmas cookies for Santa," Steve explained, as if the answer is obvious."I'm sick, I can't work, so we won't be able to make his cookies. Now he'll know how selfish I am."

Twenty years old. 

Bucky is twenty years old and dealing with a man who is distraught because he can’t afford to buy ingredients to make cookies for Santa. All Bucky can do for the first few seconds after Steve’s explanation is stare blankly at him, as he starts to tear up again.

The problem is that Bucky actually does have some idea of what is going through Steve's fever-addled brain. There wasn't much to go around when they were growing up, thanks to the market crash that happened when they were still young, and so a new tradition found its way into the Rogers and Barnes households. In the spirit of giving to those in need and thanking others for what they gave to you, the families would set out a small plate of cookies for Santa Claus to enjoy each Christmas. It was simply kind.

Even after all of Bucky's younger siblings had grown old enough to learn the truth about Santa, Steve had set cookies out without fail. When times were tight, he would only make a few, but there were always cookies and a cold glass of milk sitting on a table near their small Christmas tree come the night of December 24th. Steve always took care of it; Bucky didn't even think to set money aside for baking supplies. With their rent due soon and bills coming not long after that, they would struggle enough to have a meager Christmas dinner and still buy each other presents.

Luckily, Bucky had a secret.

"Stevie, don't you worry. Leave it to me. Santa will have his cookies," Bucky assured Steve, brushing his hair out of his eyes and tucking him back into bed properly. "I promise, doll, and you know I don't break my promises."

Steve nodded weakly, already sinking back into a fevered sleep, but he wasn't fighting it any longer. Bucky wiped Steve's tears from his soft cheeks, and stroked his blond hair gently until Steve’s breathing settled and he drifted into a more peaceful sleep.

Money had to be carefully budgeted, and Bucky had bought Steve a brand new set of colored pencils during a sale the previous month, so there was no present money to be used for cookie supplies. The extra hours Steve had been picking up weren't enough to give them extra spending money either. However, Bucky had one special thing hidden away for a rainy day: a small jar of pennies, nickels, and dimes, all adding up to a total of about five dollars. That would be more than enough to give Steve the ingredients he needed for Santa’s Christmas cookies and, since they had an emergency fund now, he didn't feel too nervous spending it.

"Don't you worry, Stevie," Bucky muttered to himself, a bright smile spreading across his lips. "I'll make sure you get a proper holiday."

**Author's Note:**

> For more ~~holiday~~ Stucky cheer, visit me on [](http://summerpacifist.tumblr.com/>tumblr</a>!)


End file.
